


The Chain is Strong

by DuilinofGondolin



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4591071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuilinofGondolin/pseuds/DuilinofGondolin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curufin and Caranthir accidentally end up chained together when a project doesn't work as planned, and they might need some help freeing themselves. A situation between brothers (and a half-cousin). No pairings, although if you squint, you can probably find Curufin/Celegorm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chain is Strong

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first silmarillion fic on here, but I'm a long-time lurker. I have many short silm fics I've written both for my younger sister and as a way to keep sane in grad school, and these muses do not leave me alone. I hope you like this! :) Feedback is always appreciated, suggestions, anything! Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> This is not meant to be particularly serious, and I know next to nothing about forges and smithies and such, so apologies if anything is off!

“I _cannot_ believe this.”

“Stand still. I’ll free you.”

“You had _better_!”

Caranthir glared at his younger brother, his cheeks blushing a dark shade of scarlet that was normally an indication to whomever had upset him to leave as soon as possible. Curufin, unfortunately, could do no such thing. He helplessly held up his wrist, to which was firmly bound a thin, shining metal chain, and tugged gently to see if the chain would loosen. It did not, and he only succeeded in jerking his brother’s arm forward. Caranthir grumbled in indignation, and Curufin muttered a half-hearted apology, turning the chain over in his free hand and examining it meticulously.

“I don’t see where I went wrong...” he said aloud, furrowing his brow deeply.

“You went wrong when you decided to attach me to your confounded contraption, and, by extension, yourself!”

“I was certain it was ready,” Curufin snapped. “Do you know how difficult it is to master the binding on these chains?”

“I think you’ve mastered it,” Caranthir huffed, holding up his wrist and giving the chain a shake for good measure. Curufin glared and turned back to the chain in his free hand, ignoring Caranthir’s bitter remarks and wondering why it could not have been Tyelko to whom he’d accidentally attached himself.

“It should release when tugged from my side of the cord...Finrod helped me with the enchantment, we all know he’s the best at these things...”

He gave a solid yank on the cord attached to his own wrist, but once more it did not give way. Caranthir rolled his eyes.

“You were going to put this on your _child_?”

Curufin coughed.

“Not anymore.”

“Oh, for the love of--where even is the wee squirrel now?”

“Tyelko’s watching him.”

“Ai, Valar.”

“They’re _fine_ ,” Curufin insisted. “He loves his uncle Tyelko. Which is more than I can say for his uncle Moryo.”

Caranthir frowned, looking rather offended, and Curufin, satisfied that he had silenced him, tugged again on the chain which bound him to his brother and turned to face the forge, still glowing dimly. Perhaps if the chain could be broken with heat...

Caranthir followed Curufin’s eyes, noticing the direction in which he was looking, and jerked his arm back to his side, dragging Curufin with it, who barely had enough time to steady himself.

“No,” he said resolutely.

“’No’ what?”

“You are not putting my arm anywhere near a burning forge. You almost took Maitimo’s hand off that one time you made him those vambraces.”

“I was very young then--and if you won’t let me even try, then we will just have to remain joined together forever. Think you can handle that, brother mine?”

“I’d rather cut my own hand off, thank you very much.”

“You are delightful company yourself right now, Moryo,” Curufin hissed. “Perhaps if you could cease acting as though I have done this on purpose and cooperate with me for a change, you could be well rid of me.”

With that he seized the chain with both hands, caring not for Caranthir’s scowling, and dragged them both toward the forge. Caranthir kept as far a distance as he was able while Curufin one-handedly shuffled some of the coals aside and made several attempts to re-light the hearth, finally kindling a new flame.

“Now,” Curufin said, pulling Caranthir forward by the cord attaching them, “when this heats, the chain must be lain in the coals, and then we will need to position our hands on the anvil so the chain might rest on it. It is weakest near the loops at the wrists. I will try to shatter it with the hammer.”

“Take care you don’t shatter our hands,” Caranthir muttered nervously. “Your hammering hand is not the free one.”

“No, it is not,” Curufin shrugged. “But worry not, I will not hurt you.”

“Hmph.”

From the bitterness in his voice Caranthir sounded less than enthused, and Curufin could tell he didn’t quite trust him, which made him once again wish that it were Tyelko on the other end of the cord, Tyelko who would have been patiently watching him with ever-trusting doe eyes. It was not the time to be put out about who trusted and didn’t trust whom, however; the forge was heated, and the chain was lain into the red heat of the hearth.

“Hold your wrist over the coals. As close as you can. It needs to glow,” Curufin instructed. Caranthir warily complied. It was not long before his perpetually-blushing cheeks were flushed even redder with heat and beads of sweat had formed on his forehead.

“I will get you back for this,” he said darkly, and Curufin hoped that there was some hint of playfulness behind his words. Caranthir’s usual manner of speaking was so uniformly harsh that one could never tell.

“Right. I’ll be doing the same as soon as I free you, so don’t think I won’t be suffering as well. Rest your wrist on the anvil. Carefully. It should be hot now.”

Lifting his own arm, he guided the chain and Caranthir’s wrist to the anvil. Strangely, it did not glow red; the cord had been enchanted after all, and he hoped it would yield to the hammer.

“Shield your eyes, Moryo,” Curufin said, and with a reassuring nod that went largely unnoticed, lifted his hammer to bring it down upon the chain. Both metals clanged and sent a shower of sparks in their direction. Caranthir winced, but Curufin coolly adjusted the chain with a nudge of the hammer. He struck again, this time closer to Caranthir’s wrist, and Caranthir squeezed his eyes shut.

“Moryo. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise,” Curufin said without looking up, sensing his brother’s unease. “Trust me just this once.”

"I do."

Curufin briefly looked up, catching Caranthir's gaze for a fleeting moment and swearing that he saw a small smile there. With a nod, he turned back to his work. He struck the cord several more times, cursing when nothing seemed to be happening other than showering his poor brother with metallic sparks.

“Anything at all?” Caranthir asked eagerly.

“...no. But I _will_ free you.”

“Grandfather’s _beard_ , Curvo!” he huffed angrily.

“Don’t worry, brother. When the cord cools again, I will go get Finrod. He can help de-enchant it, or something like that. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

“As if!” Caranthir cried, thrusting his arm up and sending the hot chain swinging dangerously close to his thighs. Curufin’s arm followed Caranthir’s into the air.

“Ah. Right,” he sighed. “Suppose we both go?”

“And risk being seen chained together by any of uncle Finarfin’s clan other than Finrod? Not on your life, master craftsman.”

“Right. Well, then it’s back to the anvil with your wrist,” he scowled. “Confound our pride,” he added as an afterthought.

Their predicament did not last long, however; as Curufin readied the chain on the anvil, they heard the sound of the forge door being opened, and someone began to descend down the stairs.

“Varda’s stars,” Caranthir hissed in a whisper, but Curufin reassured him.

“It’s probably Tyelko; no one else comes down here.”

Within a moment, a tall, fair-haired figure had indeed appeared in the doorway, but it was not Celegorm, but Finrod himself. His golden hair was neatly braided, his eyes shining, and his expression lighthearted as ever. Caranthir and Curufin shared a relieved look before turning their attention to Finrod.

“Hello cousins!” he said brightly. “How are things going down here?”

“Rather less well than I had hoped,” Curufin answered, holding up the chain to show Finrod. “The restraint I made for Tyelpe. It won’t unbind itself as it is supposed to, and now Moryo and I are chained together.”

“Oh. Look at that,” he chuckled with a smile.

“Moryo was patient enough to let me test it on him--this was one of the only times he has let me do that, I might add--and look at where it got him. Perhaps Aule is trying to send me signs that I shouldn’t restrain my child like a bird on a tether, but he runs off so much otherwise.”

“Aule indeed,” Finrod nodded. “Has it been a pleasant experience, at least, being chained to each other?”

“Not at all,” both answered at once, and a hint of a chuckle passed Caranthir’s lips.

“Why ever would this be pleasant?” Curufin asked, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his cousin. He liked Finrod well enough, as everyone did, but the eternally-optimistic sort sometimes grated on his tightly-woven nerves.

“I mean that it could have been a nice time to talk with your brother, share a laugh at the ridiculousness of it, something of that sort. I know you two hardly see each other these days, what with Curufin crafting away, or off hunting with Celegorm, and with a small bairn on top of it all,” Finrod answered.

Both brothers suddenly paused. They shared a look with each other, and then turned equally inquisitive gazes to Finrod, who smiled sweetly.

“You look suspiciously pleased with yourself,” Curufin glared. “What did you do, Ingoldo?”

“And suspiciously well-prepared for visiting a forge,” Caranthir added. “Braided hair, apron and all.”

There was silence apart from the low hissing of the hearth.

“I might have...influenced this situation,” Finrod answered guiltily after several moments.

“ _What?!_ ”

“For your own good, of course.”

“Ingoldo, explain! Or endure a shower of burning coals on that pretty face of yours,” Caranthir threatened with fire in his eyes. Finrod smiled even sweeter than before.

“As I said, a time to talk with the brother you hardly see, share a laugh together...I may or may not have known that Caranthir would be the one to come down--

“How could you possibly have known that?”

“A “gift”, my father calls it, to be put to good use--

“Foresight,” completed Curufin, half indignantly and half on the verge of laughter. “And your enchanting songs. Finrod, you are the most infuriatingly impossible elf I have ever known. And have you seen the number of impossible elves I _live with_ , let alone count within my circle of acquaintances?”

“Enchant this thrice-damned chain off of us at once, Ingoldo!” Caranthir practically shouted, an amused smile now thoroughly betraying his indignant tone. He shook his fist in Finrod’s direction, and with it the cord rattled.

“I meant no harm, dear cousins,” Finrod said calmly, considering it safe to approach them without, as Caranthir had threatened, glowing coals raining down upon him. “I hope this has done you two good.”

***

A few melodic enchantments and a few minutes later found Caranthir and Curufin walking through the hallway together, both pairs of hands being held warily behind their backs, but their elbows touching closely in a moment of solidarity that their earlier predicament had caused.

“I’m sorry I was so short with you,” Caranthir was saying. “I don’t like being _confined_ to anything. To anyone, for that matter.”

“Afraid you would have had to fill in for Tyelko?” Curufin smiled dryly.

“ _Yes_ , to speak plainly. Although I think our boar of a brother could have broken that chain out of pure strength of will if faced with the proposition of me usurping you.”

“Who’s usurping my Curvo?!” came a sudden brash voice from further down the hall. The owner of the voice soon darted into view, catching sight of his brothers. “Moryo, I swear!”

“Steady _on_ , you nightmare!” Caranthir grumbled as Celegorm approached them with a look of mock suspicion on his face. “He’s all yours. Trust me.”

“’All his’ he says...Manwe help me,” Curufin said aloud to no one in particular.

“Good, because I swear on the horn of Orome I would not have spent the afternoon chasing a tiny version of my father and brother around the forest for just anyone.”

Curufin felt a heavy arm drape across his back as a cascade of silver-blond hair tumbled across his shoulders.

“How’s that restraint you were going on about coming along? Your wee thing tottered off more times than I could count. I finally brought him to Maglor, who put him to sleep with some music.”  
Caranthir snorted, and Curufin smiled slyly.

“It isn’t working precisely as I had hoped. But you might help me with something, dearest brother mine. If you could somehow get our cousin Turgon--perhaps ask Aredhel to bring him along tomorrow--I have a mind to....you see, Finrod hasn’t spent much time with him lately, and I think, if we can get them standing close enough together...I might have something fittingly amusing in mind...”

“Do I even want to know?” Celegorm chuckled, raising his eyebrows as Caranthir burst into laughter beside them. Curufin shook his head and smiled.

“I think you shall see, Tyelko.”


End file.
